My recent Kemble airfield review went down a treat, so it seems only fair to show you the other half of that day. Not the bacon roll and the wander round the apron, but the bit that came afterwards. The flight home - this is supposed to be a flying channel after all. This one was a two-up trip with Ed, one of KK share owners, which meant he sat back and I flew and worked the radio and did all the hard work. And no, before anyone writes in, Ed isn't an instructor. That's rather the point. And he did fly us to Kemble in the first place.
Two up, and why it isn't cheating
There's a quiet snobbery in some corners of aviation about flying with someone else once you've got the licence, as if a second pair of hands is somehow a confession. I don't buy it. On a longer trip, having another pilot next to me takes a real chunk of the stress out of the day. Two pairs of eyes are always better than one. Or one of us flies the aeroplane while the other fiddles with the radio, the chart and the gadgets. Guess which job I volunteered for.
I do want to build up my solo tolerance for the longer flights. That's coming. But today wasn't the day for it, and I'm not going to pretend otherwise. Two heads in a small cockpit is more fun anyway, and a good deal less stress full.
The man, the radio, and the disclaimer
I made a point of saying it out loud on the recording, so I'll say it here too. I'm flying AND doing the radio, and Ed is not an instructor. I might do it badly, but I do it.
Some might suggest that if I don't land on the centre line then I am not a real pilot and should be fired. I had to confess that at Elstree I i'm not that bothered - getting it down smoothly and consistantly is more important, and sometimes I might miss the centre line on purpose, purely to wind people up. Which leads neatly to a question. Have you ever actually walked Elstree's centre line, on foot? More on that shortly.
Too many buttons
Most of the flight home was a gentle war with the avionics. There's a little blue chevron on the moving map that shows your actual track, wind corrected, and if you sit it on top of the green course arrow you'll stay bang on the line you want. Simple once you know. Less simple when you're poking at it at a hundred knots and narrating your own confusion.
We had a play with the fuel range rings too. Green is what you've got with your reserve intact, yellow is what's left once you're eating into it. Useful, mildly alarming, and exactly the sort of thing you want to understand on the ground rather than discover in the air. I even tested the backup CDI mode, which is the kind of sentence that would have meant nothing to me a few years ago.
The throttle, meanwhile, has developed a personality. It feels sprung, but in the wrong place, as if someone has nudged the friction nut a touch too far. Small thing. Still annoying.
Crossing the MATZ, and yes, we giggled
The route home took us past Brize on a basic service, then up to RAF Benson for a crossing of their MATZ via the southern stub. MATZ stands for Military Aerodrome Traffic Zone, and the standard way to ask to cross one is to request a MATZ penetration. Every general aviation pilot who has ever keyed the mic and said "request MATZ penetration" has had the same quiet, schoolboy giggle. We were no exception. The controller approved it, entirely deadpan, the way they always do, and on we went.
The light, and a fly-by of where it started
This is the part the camera never quite catches. It was late enough in the afternoon for the light to go properly golden, with a clean inversion sitting over the countryside and the air dead smooth beneath it. Some of the nicest flying conditions you'll ever get.
The track took us close to where I was born, over Reading way, which I'm reliably informed counts as youtube content. It also took me back to an old nav exercise near the Stokenchurch mast, when I looked up to find someone throwing an aeroplane round a loop a few hundred feet above me. I've been a little wary of aerobatic traffic ever since. Healthy, I'd call it.
Home, and that famous centre line
Back into Elstree, I called up for the join. Runway 26, left-hand circuit, QFE 1009, one ahead in the circuit to keep an eye on. We slowed things down, joined downwind, called final, and put KK back on the ground. Backtrack, vacate, done.
Which brings us back to the centre line. I've landed on Elstree's runway more times than I can count, but it wasn't until I walked out onto it with a camera that I saw the state of it up close. The potholes are a thing to behold. I wouldn't drive my car down it at any great speed, never mind land an aeroplane on it. We love Elstree dearly. Nobody is pretending the surface is a billiard table.
Watch the flight, read the review
If you watched the Kemble airfield review and fancied seeing the trip that went with it, this is it. The full review, bacon roll verdict and all, lives over here: the Kemble (EGBP) airfield review.
I learned to fly in my fifties and I'm still learning. That's the whole point of this place. If that's your sort of thing, there's plenty more in the logbook.
